


Deliberately

by CreatureFeatureELL



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Multi, Pre-Alexandria Safe-Zone, Reader-Insert, i'm probably forgetting things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreatureFeatureELL/pseuds/CreatureFeatureELL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader had been alone for a while before she happened upon Rick's group on their way to Alexandria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the beginning for you.

You wondered if any of this was deliberate.

You were six when you first learned about death. The family dog, your first friend, died on a muddy Sunday, never moving when you called out to her. You were raised to think that you would see the dog in the afterlife. Again, you had death take something from you when your grandparents died in a crash after visiting during the holidays. You’d see them in heaven, when it was your time, you thought. Ten years later, family and friends intact, death had come knocking on the front door. Curled in bed with your mother at the foot of it, you didn’t think it was very fair for cancer to take a twenty-something away from her near perfect life. Cancer eradicated and your hair finally coming back, you screamed when you learned your best friend had met the same fate as your grandparents fifteen years earlier on the same day.

You stood next to the metal table, head down and tears in your eyes after you identified the body. You swallowed your ugly cries and grabbed the bruised hand to run your fingers over the gaudy costume rings one last time. You stood like that until you noticed a pulse under your fingertips, ripping your hand away when the body jerked upwards helplessly. You fell to the floor when glassy eyes locked in on your figure and teeth from a torn open jaw started a chomping motion in your direction. You yelled and yelled until an officer entered the room. You watched in horror from your place on the dusty floor as the creature attempted to reach for the man instead of you, unable to move as he shot bullet after bullet into the body. Eventually he got the idea to aim for its head. It dropped off of the table and tumbled to the ground. Blood soaked its hair and pooled around the head in a halo. You called out to it, unbelieving of what had just taken place. There was no answer and you cried some more before running from the building, blissfully ignorant of what was to become of the world.

That was seventeen months ago, if you hadn’t lost count somewhere. Everything was much different now. The ache of your losses had dulled and you no longer had such an appreciation for the afterlife you used to dream about. Having to watch people get mauled to death ruined the idea of getting to see them again. Now when you envisioned an afterlife you were by yourself in the wild, an abundance of food and water and only the sounds of nature, absent of the groaning of the dead. Certainly in the afterlife you thought, you were dead but you were not dead and alive at the same time, you were merely there.

Seventeen months ago- after an officer at the morgue shot your friend in the brain to put her down for good- you stayed home for weeks with your fiancé taking care of you. Uninformed of what was happening outside of your apartment, you didn’t eat solids, only drank water and chugged the colorful blends he concocted in the juicer. You barely showered, George lifting you in and out of the tub every time your odor became unbearable. To this day the only things you regret were not eating the food that had been stocked in your fridge, and not having enough faith in finding your group again.

You wished for them as you watched another group approach your hiding place. There were almost twenty of them and they looked rough. Before any of this you would have thought they couldn’t have been that bad, a kid and a baby in tow, but you knew better now. Having precious innocents to protect made people vicious. You set your machete down and raised your arms, not dumb enough to remove the blade in your back pocket, covered by your long shirt.

“Over here,” You said loudly, clearly.

Weapons were aimed in your direction immediately. A crossbow, a sword, hand guns, rifles, knives, another machete, a bat. They looked at you as if you were a wild animal. You noticed one of the men seemed out-of-place, he didn’t have a weapon to ready, just a bag on his back. He gave you a sympathetic gaze that made you itch to get a hand on your blade. A woman rushed forward and picked it up before you could command yourself to do so, she passed it off to another woman, younger and kinder looking. You didn’t want to be gunned down but you couldn’t stop staring at the baby. The teen who held her stepped behind a buff redhead and put his hand on his gun. Not so innocent, you thought.

The man with the crossbow turned to a man with a heavy beard. The two of them and an Asian guy stood ahead of the group. Crossbow tried to be discreet, “Rick?”

He looks like a Rick, Rick looked to you and lowered his gun a bit, and there was no room for you to be relieved. He aimed for your head next. “You alone?”

You went to answer him but your throat was dry, you hadn’t spoken in weeks. You were alone in this hell hole and couldn’t risk drawing more attention your way from the corpses or the people.  

“Are you alone?” He repeated. “If you aren’t, if you lie to me, they’re dead, you’re dead.”

You nodded and forced yourself to verbalize. “Just me, it’s just me.” The Asian looked to you, to Crossbow, to Rick. Rick looked back and apparently signaled something to him. He came closer to you, grabbed your arms and twisted them behind your back. His hold on you was strong but he didn’t force you forward, allowed you to lead yourself. He had you stop in front of Rick who gave you a once over…the third, you noted. He was silent for most of the time you were put on display for him to scrutinize, some of his people looked unsure of what he would do next. A few coughed and grumbled as they waited. You tilted your head a bit; things didn’t seem good for you.

Finally, after easily ten minutes, he addressed you. “How many walkers have you killed?”

You shrugged but his eyebrows got impossibly lower, that was not a sufficient answer. “Hundreds.”

Some of the others were impressed, if not wary. “How many people have you killed?”

Your body went stiff and you felt the man’s grip tighten because of it. You wondered if you should lie. “None…” It came out like a question.

“You sure about that?”

The whites of his knuckles told you there wasn’t any room to respond differently. “There’s never been a good enough reason.”

He looked behind you and your arms were free. You were pushed ahead a little and hands began to pat you down. The Asian put your dagger into his own pocket and stopped after that. Your attire didn’t leave any other hiding places unless you wanted to get uncomfortably clever. They didn't speak to you again, just made you walk in place next to the man with the backpack. He smiled at you lightly.

Nightfall came and you were put into a vehicle seated beside the nice outsider. You tried not to touch anyone too much but the space was tight.

Everyone was quiet still and you wondered if this were deliberate, because you were dying to speak.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very late, probably has errors.

Your first thought when you wake up is that you are dead. You are dead and you have teetered your way into purgatory. Maybe you were a good kid but a bad adult and things had evened themselves out enough that you wound up here, surrounded by white. The ceiling is white, your shirt is white, the chair to your right is white and the bandage on your left arm is of course white. You stare at it while trying to recall how you had injured yourself but nothing comes to mind, it bleeds into pink and you lose consciousness.

 

The second time you wake up you are not alone. A girl is in the chair next to you, her glasses informing you that she wasn't with the group you encountered earlier. The glare from her glasses when she looks up is bright enough to make you turn away but you can hear when she squeezes the excess water out of the rag she dabs at your forehead with. 

 

"Good, you're awake. You were a little touch and go according to Pete."

 

"Pete? Where am I?" You try to lift yourself but the pain that shoots up your spine forces you back down.

 

"You're in the infirmary at the Alexandria Safe Zone."

 

"Alexandria?" You close your eyes and plunder through recent memories. Just when you get an image in your head it loses it's color and becomes pixelated. "How did I get here?"

 

She leans back in her chair, metal creaking, commanding you to focus on the speaker. "Rick and his group brought you here. You had an accident on the way. You've been in and out of consciousness for the last four days. "

 

You groan because you can feel that your arm has been cut into and your shoulder is popped out of place. Your head is pulsing, sending shocks throughout your body. "Infirmary? Did you check my vitals, for internal bleeding? Why didn't you pop my shoulder back in while I was out?"

 

The woman holds up her hands as means to slow you down. "I'm not the residential doctor, that would be Pete. He's getting lunch. He should return soon. I'll tell him you're up." She takes a bucket with her when she leaves the room.

 

Lying in the bed you keep trying to conjure up what happened that led to you being immobile. Nothing came to mind. You had been walking around and you heard the group, you weighed your options and made your presence known. You were questioned and you were taken by them. That was all you could piece together. Your head starts to ache from the over exertion and you fall asleep.

 

It is dark out when you wake next. You still feel tired but there is someone in the room with you, standing next to you. They are close enough that you can hear them breathing. Opening your eyes you see Rick standing over you - you assume it's Rick- some of his features are the same but the heavy beard is no longer there and he and his clothes are dirt free.

 

"Where am I?"

 

"Alexandria."

 

"No…" That was not what you were asking, you try to make yourself clear. Things are not names to you anymore, they are safe or unsafe. "No...Is it safe, am I safe?"

 

He takes a step back and glares, readying for an interrogation. "Are you?"

 

"Safe enough for you guys to keep alive." You make an effort to maintain eye contact but your neck locks in place when you turn your head and you are stuck looking at him from the corners of your eyes.

 

"I decided that," he says, "I decided that and no one- no one else- did."

 

"But you _did._ " 

 

He nods for a while. "They gave us houses. Took our guns but gave us beds and," He pauses and you can see that he is fighting with himself on what he plans on saying next. "And if this is a trick, if this is some elaborate façade, we're going to take this place. We're going to take this place for ourselves." He rubs a hand under his chin. You hear his skin catch on the stubble.

 

"Until then? Should I stay?"

 

"That's for you to decide." Rick seems agitated with his shallow breathing and hands on his hips. This is the first time you notice his jacket, see the badges on it. He had made his decision and you think he can afford to make another.

 

"I want you to decide for me. You decided to help me out, to not kill me, you took me here. That- that makes us friends in my eyes and I ask my friends for advice. So, Rick-my friend, Rick, should I stay?"

 

He grips the thin paper separating your body from the mattress. "Yeah… Yeah you should stay." He pushes himself away from the edge of the bed and turns his back on you. You close your eyes and think to yourself, Rick chooses to leave then, the door opening. When it does not shut you know someone else is in there with you. You think that Rick stayed behind but no, it's a taller man in a lab coat. He turns on a light and opens a packet that according to your nose contained rubbing alcohol.

 

There is a stethoscope around his neck that he scrubs with the alcohol pad. "Good you're _actually_ awake."

 

"Yeah, I heard that already. Can you give me a hand?" You reach out for him and use him as leverage to sit up. He watches you with bewildered eyes. "We have to fix my shoulder before it decides to stay this way." You point to the bulge near your chest.

  
"It's going to hurt like a bitch you know?"

 

You huff and slither off of the bed. "It would have hurt less with meds but I'm assuming you don't have the right ones for conscious sedation."

 

He shakes his head.

 

"That's what I thought. But you know what that is so I'm guessing you're a real doctor, which means you should at least know to handle me gently. I'm going to lie on the floor. I need you to place your foot at my waist and on top of my shoulder then you'll grab my arm and move it towards my head." You demonstrate by placing your good arm at your side then out and up. "You'll probably hear a pop but that's just the bone sliding back into place."

 

He laughs uneasily and scratches his head, waiting for you to get situated. Pete grabs onto your wrist and begins to move it but stops much to your distress. "Whatever happens is on you, I was a general surgeon, not ortho. There is a surprising lack of dislocated shoulders among the many injuries I still treat."

 

You screech when you hear the pop, a stinging sensation spreading throughout the top of your back. You turn to your side and curl in on yourself. Pete gets to his knees and goes to touch you only to be waved away. "Don't, don't," After a few deep breaths you stop tensing up and relax on the tile. "Shit," You run a hand over your face.

 

"You good?" The doctor is on his feet now, "I can give you some acetaminophen to take the edge off but anything else will thin your blood and with you passing out the days prior to this that wouldn't be smart."

 

"Internal bleeding, I know. Do I have any bruises anywhere?" You hike up the shirt to check. "Did I have any before?"  
 

"No," He puts his arm under your shoulders and one under your knees, depositing you back on the bed. "You know a lot about this stuff, were you a doctor or something before this?"

 

You ignore his question for one of your own. "I'm up, I'm in a new place. What now?"

 

"What do you mean what now?"

 

"You guys have some kind of law and order thing going on here. I can't imagine you would just accept me in with no ifs, ands, or buts."

 

"No, you're right. Our leader will want to speak with you, but it's late."

 

"So what then? Do I wait until tomorrow and just sleep here tonight?"

 

His head is in a cupboard while you await your answer, there's a ring of keys in the door. He emerges with a bottle of Tylenol. "Sorry."

 

 

 

 

You look at the tall house before you, it's something akin to what you thought you might live in if you and your fiance decided to procreate. Two stories with a porch that you would sit on to watch your kids play. "This whole thing is mine?"

 

Aaron nods, "All yours. I told Deanna that you only joined the group the day before we arrived and she agreed it might be best if you had your own place."

 

"This is a lot," Through the bay window you can see a table that seats six, "really it is."

 

"Well we don't have anything smaller ready so this will have to do. Maybe you'll make friends and move in with them or find someone who catches your eye."

 

"That'd be moving rather quickly."

 

"What other pace is there during times like this?"

  
Your only response is a shrug. He helps you up the steps and opens the front door. "Thank you."

 

"My pleasure," he says before backing away. "Your shirt should be inside next to your bag, someone washed it for you. If you need me I'm just around the corner, second house from the crosswalk."

 

You close the door and lean against it, watching as Aaron disappeared from you line of sight. You sigh and take everything in. The kitchen is to your left and it's full of marble and stainless steel, to your right is the living room with a strong floral theme seen in the fabric of the couch and the vases stuffed with fake lilacs.  It's not what you would have picked out but who were you to complain? Passing through the living room you get to a hallway with stairs at the end of it and an adjacent door. Behind it is a bathroom done is soft purple and crème colored porcelain. You turn on the shower to as hot as you can make it before stripping down.

 

You take your time cleaning yourself, thinking about how clean the people you had encountered were. You leave the bathroom dripping wet and head upstairs in search for a towel or your bag. Finding nothing in the three bedrooms or second bathroom you return to the living room and spot your bag lying next to the couch. Nothing tells you it's a bad idea to get dressed there, taking your time to stretch the wrinkles out of your pants, unaware that someone was at your door. You hear a gasp and turn to see a young boy peeking at you through the small window. You curse the blinds for being open and fumble trying to get your clothes on before throwing open the door a second later. You are disappointed to see the boy is gone.

 

 

 

 

 

You had not noticed the kid on your way to Deanna's office or to your house so you have not a clue where to go during your search for him. What were you going to do about it anyways? You blanched at the thought of explaining to a mother that their son had been spying on you but you soon shook away your fears. You had stabbed things in the head and lit entire buildings on fire, there was nothing to be nervous about. The kid should have knocked first or turned away. This does not stop you from wandering around. Some people look at you through their windows, a few of them wave. No one speaks to you directly except for an old couple sitting on their porch. They invite you to have some tea with them but you decline and ask if there was anyone with a young son.

 

"Maybe you're speaking of Sam? Was he short with freckles?" The woman asks, setting down her pitcher. "The Andersons are just a few houses away, it's an off white and the garage should be open." She calls after you, "Feel free to come by some time."

 

You must have taken a wrong turn, you are minutes away and you still do not see an open garage. Biting at your lip you think about returning to your house but stop when see a man with a crossbow sitting on the steps of a gray house. You remember him to be hostile but you are not sure where else you can go, halfway forgetting the location of your new house. He watches as you approach him so you stop some ways away. He refuses to speak first and so do you. The two of you scrutinize each other in silence until a woman's voice grabs your attention.

  
"There you are, you weren't at home and I got worried." She is blonde and standing next to Rick, their joint confusion elicits a response from you.

 

"I was looking for a kid, he was at my door earlier but I must have spooked him."

 

Crossbow snorts at your luck. The blonde replies, "I'm Jessie, and that was my son, Sam. I work at the pantry and Deanna asked me to bring by some stuff but Sam wanted to help me out and asked if he could bring you your things. He…He uh… saw you." She stops short.

 

"I didn't think anyone would be by."

  
She holds up her hands. "No worries. I left a box just inside the door though. One of your neighbors goes through so much paper towel that it needs to be hidden." She laughs and it's a real laugh, something you had not heard in over a year. She is laughing about paper towel. There are dead men walking and the fact that this woman is laughing over paper towel is more unbelievable to you.

 

"Uh thank you." You acknowledge her, Rick, and Crossbow with a wave.

 

"Emily?" Jessie appears concerned. "Your house is the other way." You survey the area. _Was it_? "I can walk you back if you'd like."

 

"That would be nice."

 

Jessie pats Rick on the arm and gestures for you to move forward. When you reach your door she apologizes once more, "Again, sorry about Sam."

 

"No, he's fine, really. I can see that things are different here, he didn't know any better."

 

"Kids are a hot commodity here, luckily Rick brought two more with him. Carl and Judith, they're sweet."

 

"I didn't know the boy was Rick's, nor the baby. I guess they look like they could be siblings. I just remember seeing them in a clearing, all together, guns out. It was the last I saw of any of them." You fail to mention your conversation with Rick yesterday.

 

"Poor thing, you're missing quite a bit."

 

"Do you know something," She has her head tilted and her eyebrows are drawn together. "Someone told you?" 

 

"Well Pete is my husband!"

 

"The doctor?" That made a whole lot of sense, the cookie cutter wife and the doctor husband with their two children.

 

"Let me explain: Deanna had us keep away from the group when they arrived so they could settle in, that meant I couldn't go poking my nose where it didn't belong, but I got lucky. You were with them and the good doctor had to talk to Rick - to find out what happened so he could treat you accordingly. I got some information along the way." You invite her inside and the two of you sit on the couch. "Glenn was driving and Rick and Michonne were suspicious about Aaron not having any pictures of our group, they were wound up about it and didn't notice the herd ahead. Ran right into it. You flew forward, hit your head on the console pretty hard, hard enough to pass out I guess. The others tried to keep you out of harms way as they fought through the roamers but you got kinda banged up on the way. Pete says that hit and some other thing is why you were out for so long." You say nothing, "Well Rick didn't tell Pete all of that, I asked about it just before I ran into you. Speak of the devil."

 

You process the information slowly, you do remember getting into a car and a tense moment but your memory got blurry after that. You know that you did not become unconscious because of a simple hit to your head, however, there was more to it. You can feel the ache in your body telling you so but you try to not care, you are alive and there are walls and smile-y people and rolls of paper towel.

 

"Oh God, I hope you don't think I'm the town gossip now, not that there's much to gossip about besides Shelly Neudermeyer constantly asking for a pasta maker even though that's the last thing on anyone's mind when they go for a supply run." She leans back, "I'm doing it again. I should go, I have to start dinner." She stands and brings the basket to your kitchen table. "There's some canned soups, jerky,  _dried_ pasta, and two cans of sauce to start you off with. I wasn't sure what you liked, you can stop by the pantry at any time. If you need help finding it just ask around." She leaves you alone to stare at the food in awe. 

 

Your mouth waters as you microwave one of the soups, and you choose to ignore the way the hot glass burns your hand as you hold onto the bowl. This whole situation seems like a dream. The last thing you ate was peanut butter, you made the jar last as long as possible, which was only maybe three nights. In the beginning you had a steady supply of food, some time after that and you still were well off, having been the one in charge of scavenging in your group you knew where to look, where people hid the good stuff. Months after losing track of your people your luck ran out, but at the very least you always found something to help maintain your energy. It was the last two weeks that nearly killed you, literally; the path you had taken put you on a long road with nothing but grass around you and nowhere to find hidden morsels. This soup had expired sometime ago you could tell from it's gelatinous texture, but you continued to eat it anyways not wanting the previous night's events to reoccur. 

 

 

 

 

 

_"May I film you?"_

_"No problem."_

 

_She motions for you to sit down, you look at the armchair for some solution to your predicament but it offers you nothing besides a pretty design to stare at. You remain standing while she sits down with her hands together in front of her. "What's your name?"_

_"Emily, you're Deanna right?"_

 

 _"Yes, it's nice to finally be able to speak with you, although I wish this were under a different circumstance."_ _You feel naked under her stern gaze. "Can you tell me what you were looking for?"_

 

_"Medicine-Well, obviously medicine."_

 

_"And is there any reason you didn't feel as though you could ask Pete for it directly?"_

 

_"Clearly there was a reason." You know you are ruining any chances you had at being able to stay within the supposedly safe walls of this place._

 

_"It's all right, I understand. When we need something we need it, and in a time like this there appears to be only one way to get what you want. You have to take it." She parts her hands and comes forward, mouth open as though she's hesitating. "During my time in congress I encountered a menagerie of people. I found the most interesting ones were the ones who were closest to death, frail in their hospital beds. They had a lot of wisdom to impart on me. I spent a lot of time with them."_

 

_At some point you had moved to the chair, unable to support yourself. You were found out._

_"You remind me of one of them. She was a spitfire the first couple of times I visited but then she changed, her cancer kept coming back. It would be gone but then there was a pain that she couldn't deal with and she knew what it was without having to be told. Eventually she became distant and started to do things to test the limits of her body and the people around her..."_

 

_You cut her off, "The doctor, he told you? I guessed as much. I was looking for Melphalan because there was a pain in my abdomen," You can not help the guilt that rushes over you, leaving you shivering in a cold sweat. You owed these people and yet your first instinct was to steal from them. They could have thrown you outside their gate to be eaten and you had seen groups do it too, knew that you were lucky to have landed there, "It was the same thing I felt before I went to the hospital and they recommended an oncologist. So I suspected the worst, thought I might as well take some meds before I hit the road."_

 

_"What stopped you? If you were by yourself for awhile I imagine that you could have taken Pete down with little difficulty."_

 

_"He gave me a cup of water for my Tylenol and offered me a sandwich. Who knew that hunger pains could feel like the onset of ovarian cancer?"_

 

_"Who knew." She seems genuine, "I forgive you."_

 

_"What?" You dig your fingernails into the upholstery._

 

_"I said all is forgiven, but there is a price."_

_"Which is?"_

 

_"Pete is our only doctor but he said that you have some medical knowledge. We can't risk losing him on a supply run, and you should be fully recovered within a couple of days. I was thinking, if you stay, that you can join my son and a few others on the next run. As you could tell we are low on several things. That could be your job here."_

 

 _"My job..."_

 

" _Your job, if you choose to take it."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I landed on the tvtropes website and was struck with a fear that I have never felt before.


End file.
